DITW 11-20: Depth (Patreon)

As each inch sunk deeper inside her, the harder her heart beat. The toy’s size stretched her out the same way Devlin did, and the feeling of surrendering that sacred dominion to the oversized impalement of a foreign invader felt like divine punishment, yet wrapped in the velvet cloak of an imperial spy. It wasn’t solely the size of the implement, but the intangible power that surrender provided; the size felt good, felt incredible at times, but what felt better was the success of her own allure. Devlin’s sexual pride, the rapture the vain man held for his own endowment, was his weakness. It turned her submission into his victory, yet it wasn’t him who truly gained a thing. Not in the grand scheme he ran in his own mind. Her submission to Devlin’s sexual mastery, provoked through a game of nefarious curiosity, brought her so much more. It brought her everything. And even now, submitting to the silicon mimic of Devlin’s grand sexual ornament, even more was gained. Submission granted power, yet the one who received this gift could never acquire it without her permission. Their power was a mirage. A hazy image painted in suggestive strokes, the brush held in her own graceful grasp. With curiosity, submission, platitudes, and presentation, she could manifest a work complementary to the greatest Classical French Masters. Devlin assumed power the way a wartime general would. Hyun assumed it in the careful manner of ebbing and flowing lunar tides. Even in pursuing power she still shed it in huge waves of supplication and groveling appeasement. Hyun couldn’t hold power for long. Her natural inclination was to return it.

Hyun studied Kimmy’s face while she eased the toy deeper and Kimmy showed her the faces she would want to see. She showed Hyun sexual bewilderment, unfamiliar pleasure, new pleasure; the kinds of expressions Hyun would fantasize about. Hyun’s proclivities were newfound, exhumed from the protocol of her upbringing, and what she would desire would be a shared sexual discovery, of a way they could be together that Kimmy had never explored. What Hyun delivered must be bigger and better and newer than anything ever before. Hyun wanted to be important.

Kimmy drew in three cold chuffs of air as the toy neared maximum insertion. She widened her eyes and raised her arms above her head, writhing under the pressing thumb of enormous ecstasy. She blabbered. “This is so . . . This is so . . .”

Hyun touched her neck, resting the curled warmth of her palm on Kimmy’s collar and stroking her thumb up the tendon from her clavicle to under her earlobe.

“Deeper,” she whispered, luring Hyun to darker places, seedier alleys in the neighborhood, lowering a hand to her own tummy and trying to pinpoint where the dildo terminated below her navel. “You feel so good.” She watched Hyun’s eyes travel from her gaze, lower, to where she brushed long nails over her taut tummy.

Only it didn’t feel so good, as she described. At least not in the way she craved. The Devlin-sized toy was a golem substitute for the real thing. Devlin’s enormous penis was spongier, warm and yielding at times. It changed states. Sometimes wriggly and floppy, other times rigid and pole-like. Sometimes when he was rock hard, out of his mind, driven there by the sexual angle she provided—his obsession with humiliating other men—she could feel every ridge, every risen vein, the rubbery lip of his coronal ridge.

This wasn’t sex with Devlin Stone. It didn’t bring what sex with Devlin brought, no matter how similar in size the sexual replica may be. This was bizarre intimacy with a close family friend. A former relation. Still a relation in some manner. And it was good in a whole different way. A humming tuning fork of energy between them, resonating with their mutual badness; this was Hyun’s corruption. This was Hyun getting everything she fantasized about but hated. When it was presented at her doorstep, a bad part of this good woman snuck the gift inside her home where no neighbors could see her and she unwrapped it with trembling hands. Power flowed back and forth between them like in a closed circuit, back and forth and back and forth, each of them sipping from the same poisoned cup and then swallowing while watching the other one drink.

That sexual dynamo that buzzed within her roared to life once again, shaking the rivets that bolted it inside her interior. Another orgasm swelled large, threatening imminent bursting; her saturated fields would be drenched again, another downpour coming on the heels of the first.

Her knees rose higher, exposing more of her sex to Hyun. Hyun kissed her knee and watched her eyes as she fucked her with the dildo in short and ultra-slow inch-long pulses, the toy’s head pushing so deep it bordered on discomfort. Hyun didn’t have the knowledge or skill with her rubbery weapon, not in the same way Devlin could wield his flesh-and-blood one, and she wouldn’t be able to stretch out that inner box canyon that Devlin did, wouldn’t deliver her into a whole different sexual stratosphere the way orgasms spun up from that spot would.

And yet an orgasm loomed. There was an erotic pull in the way Hyun’s eyes shone on her with black, quivering intent. It lured the orgasm so close it brought a shimmering heat, showed a glimmering shine on her skin.

Then Hyun did the unexpected. Introduced something Devlin wouldn’t do. Brought something only Hyun could bring. The vibrator. One Hyun used on herself. Used on herself in her direst, most fraught times. Late at night, all alone, her minion asleep in bed. She must worry about the vibrator’s buzz. Or maybe Hyun only used it when Sophie stayed with Meyer. Going a week at a time with no sexual pleasure.

She groaned and purred as Hyun introduced it between her legs, fumbling for a moment as she tried to use two things at once, pulsing the dildo and seeking to start the vibrator’s electric motor. And when it did start, when Hyun brought it to life, the gasp of excitement Kimmy uttered was true and real and large. She cried out and squeezed her own breasts.

This was awful. This was confounding. This was intricate. And most of all it was dark and wrong, and she held the rod, making the lure dance in the sunlight, spinning through the tall grasses; impossible to resist.

Her hand went around the back of Hyun’s slender neck. She felt so soft and female; warm skin, tenderness. With the dildo buried near the hilt and the nose of the vibrator dancing around and over her clitoris, she said to Hyun, “Are you going to come inside me?”

Hyun gasped, shocked by the vulgar words. But she complied, leaning her body into Kimmy’s, kissing the point of her knee again, both hands working hard to make her crush reach orgasm. “I’m going to . . . come in . . . come inside you.”

* * *

Josh returned to the Qashqai, half a meatball sub and a can of Dr. Pepper in a plastic Subway bag swinging from one hand. The car was parked with the grille pointing toward Old Kingston, nosed up to the concrete barrier. He got back in and turned the car on so the fan might blow some air around the cabin, cool it off after the heat he’d generated building frustrating anger over an impossible scenario, then the heat his wife had sparked when she’d discovered him outside Hyun’s building.

Past the shopping plaza’s gardens, past Old Kingston, past the Mumbai Grill and the dry cleaner and the halal butcher, over the top of the black nighttime treetops, he could see the top floor of Hyun’s building. He ate in silence, no music, no talk radio, only the quiet whoosh of the car’s climate control. He contemplated what might be happening there. He contemplated his testy exchange with his wife. Contemplated the way she manipulated him. The way she worked from a spot two or more places ahead of him. The way, with no effort, she’d turned the tables on his stakeout and humiliated him. Her humiliation came with the steady, unbothered ease of a practiced craftsman. He had caught her in something, but she’d snipped the red cable while the clock to his detonation counted down. Snip. Problem solved.

But what problem would there be if she discovered him outside Hyun’s building? Why would her natural inclination go to humiliation? Humiliation was control. In that strange moment, Kimmy had controlled him. Only a guilty person would seek to control their investigator. An innocent person would wield their innocence like a weapon. Wouldn’t they?

An innocent woman might be charmed to find her husband thinking of her so much he was driving around and came to park near where she may be.

He was tired of being guilty. And he was guilty. Guilty of worry and hurt and suffering. It was her behavior, her mystery, that brought him to Hyun’s building. And, yes, he’d unzipped his erection and had manipulated himself in brief, furtive caresses. But it wasn’t masturbating. It wasn’t the thrill of Kimmy’s badness that begged for sexual touch. Sexual touch was a pressure valve; a release from the high anxiety stakes of loving Kimmy Chang. Of marrying Kimmy Chang.

Kimmy’s deceits came in pastry-thin wafers, but built layer over layer, they assumed a surprising integrity. When he felt the pressure of their weight, sex was the release. Sexualization and humiliation were the things that allowed him to endure this torment. Even if the introduction of his fear-based kink was the enacting agent of his wife’s talent for framing her actions as guileless and his actions as provocative, the way only a clever and analytical lawyer could.

He finished the meatball sub in six bites, ravenous now that his clouded mind had brightened. It was a quarter after ten and he hadn’t eaten since lunch at work today. Sub wrapper balled up and tossed in the flimsy bag, mouth wiped, tonguing meatball remnants out of his cheek, he popped the top on his Dr. Pepper and contemplated some more, looking out again over the roof of the Mumbai Grill. Kimmy was in that apartment. He was sure of that. He had seen her there with his own eyes. Had seen her return through the lobby.

A terrible idea revealed itself. He burped, grumbled, then sighed, set the can back in the cup holder, wriggling it into place. He licked his lower lip, eyes glued to the pale light in the windows of Hyun’s building’s top floor. The anxious ball of greasy worry still slithered in his stomach. A heavy dread weighed on his shoulders. Something big was happening, and he knew he couldn’t see it. Knew it was right in front of him, but his eyes were tuned only to one specific wavelength.

But he knew what he could do.

It was stupid and self-destructive, but it was action. Inaction had corralled him into his current state. Action might put him clear.

He hefted his phone and teased himself with every excuse in the world not to do this. When the objections waned, he rubbed the heel of one hand into an eye and grumbled again.

Then, with sudden but fleeting nerve, he tapped the contact on his phone and then sent them a message.

Josh: Where are you right now?

He set his phone down and waited. Devlin answered less than a minute later.

Devlin: I’m with Kimmy